The Polaroid Diaries
by An Cathal Toirmisce
Summary: I'm no good with words, but they say I'm quite the photographer. They also say a picture is worth one thousand words, let's hope they're right, whoever they are. Edmund/Lucy. MODERN DAY AU. No incest.


**Title: **The Polaroid Diaries

_**Warnings: **__Language, references to drugs and alcohol, and sex involving teens._

**Summary: **MODERN DAY AU. I'm no good with words, but they say I'm quite the photographer. They say a picture is worth one thousand words, let's hope they're right, whoever they are. Edmund/Lucy

**Rating: **T for now, might be M later depending on how descriptive I want to get.

* * *

I'm in the darkroom as I hear the doorbell ring. That's odd. Nobody ever comes over. Except for Susan sometimes. Or Dad. Or Corin.

Okay, I take my previous comment back. I guess people come over. Let me reword it. Nobody ever rings the damn doorbell. Susan and Dad have a key, and Corin knows how to pick locks. It's kind of scary if you think about it. Which, luckily, I don't.

I take my eyes back to the negatives I'm developing. Three seconds too long on exposure. I sigh and toss another five pounds into the trash and start again.

I'm almost done with the exposure this time, when the doorbell rings a second time. I hear something wet spill, and my fingertips start to burn.

Oh, living hell!

I jolt away from the spilt chemicals and run my hands under the cold water, rubbing in soap and cursing everybody I've ever known in my life. Mum, Dad, Susan, Corin, Rabadash, Peter, Lucy…

Well, maybe not her.

Then again, I do blame her for pretty much everything.

Oh, get a grip, Martin. It's been two years. How long am I going to act like a stuck up little prat who didn't get his way?

A little while longer, maybe.

_Ding-dong. _

Okay, someday I'm going to take that doorbell down. That'll show persistent little buggers like whoever this is.

I turn off the dark lights and step out into the hallway. The light burns my eyes, and the fresh air attacks my nose. I'm pretty sure I look fairly pissed. Good. That'll show whoever's at the door not to bother me. Rid the neighbors by looking as though I've got a drinking problem: _brilliant_.

If it's Mrs. Beaver, again, with another _Welcome to the Neighborhood _gift basket I might just scream. I won't, though. I hate it when women cry, and Mrs. B seems like a crier.

At long last I finally reach the door. Without checking my little peephole, I open it.

Oh, Lord.

It can't be.

That's impossible.

"Hullo, Ed."

I stand there, dumbstruck. I somewhat want to pinch myself, just to make sure it's not some hallucination from the aminophenol or uranium nitrate. But, somehow, I know. This is really it. Lucy's back.

I'm shocked. From the way we left off the last time we formally saw each other, you'd think that she'd never want to see my sorry face again. From the way we screamed and yelled, and the way I wound up ruining the wall with my fist.

So many thoughts race through my mind. Why is she here? How did she find me? What is she doing? Does she need something? Has she missed me as much as I've missed her?

Of course, however, my brilliant mind has to have other ideas.

"How did you find doing missing me?"

She bites back a laugh. She looks tired. "Can I come in?"

Oh, what should I do? Play it cool? Yeah, that's what I should do. Pretend I've gotten some kind of posh lifestyle since she left me. "I don't know, I mean, you know…it's Thursday night and…"

She looks pensive. "That used to be movie night."

"Come on in." I move away from the doorway.

Dammit, Edmund! Evidentially I'm still whipped.

Lucy smiles at me and steps right into the living room. Soon, she sits down, looking into her palms.

She's in dirty jeans and some brand name tank top that's too big for her. She probably still buys from secondhand shops. I hope she doesn't have to and only does it for nostalgia or whatever.

"You look good," she says. "And you've got your own place. You're still doing photography, yeah?"

I nod, and take a seat on a recliner across from her. "Yeah. Mostly as a hobby, though. I'm, uh, a professional cinematographer."

That sounds better than "cameraman for the weather on a local news station," right?

She raises her brows. "Wow. I'm proud of you."

_I don't need your pride anymore_, I want to say. But it's a bloody lie, I can tell. So, I just say, "Thanks. How are you doing?"

She sucks in her cheeks. "Well, I'm kind of at a dead end."

"Care to explain?"

Running a hand through her hair, Lucy shrugs. "It's kind of a long story."

"I've got time," I say before I can think. "And I've got pizza and some fizzy drinks. I think we can last a while."

"All right," Lucy says, and begins letting her eyes dart around the room. "Well, I wouldn't have come to you, Ed. It's just that Peter…he's still in the States, and I didn't want to worry him. I just don't know what to do."

"Go on."

She sighs. "All right. I'll sum it up for you. My mum's in jail for selling. My dad's in rehab for using. I don't have anywhere to stay. I just went through a horrible relationship that's finally over. Marjorie and I got into a pretty bad fight so I can't go back to my flat…look, just for tonight while I decide what to do, can I stay here?"

No. No way in the world will I just let you waltz back into my heart like you own it…

"Yeah, of course," I say, "Um…you can take my room."

"Oh," she says. "I'm fine on the sofa."

"Suit yourself," I say. "Did you have dinner?"

She shrugs. "I'm fine."

"No?" I say, standing up. "Let me see what I've got in the kitchen."

"No, really." Lucy said. "I'm fine."

I glance her over. She looks thin. Really thin. But otherwise pretty good; her thighs have gotten smaller but they still look decent enough to…never mind.

"You need anything?"

"I'd like a hot shower. Could I?"

I nod, and try not to remember things. Things that that used to entail. Oh, God, I've missed her—but I can't think about that. We're history. Ancient history.

I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards to try to collect something that Lucy might want to eat. I've got a box of cereal she might like, but I'm almost out of milk. I rummage through the shelf and still don't find much. A tin of salt, a slab of butter, a dish of sauerkraut I don't remember making, and an unidentifiable plate of something that's turning green.

With nothing else, I throw a piece of pizza into the cooker, and put it on for a minute. I catch my reflection in the door, and find myself frowning. Do I look any different than when we last saw each other? My hair's gotten a bit longer, I guess; I can't exactly afford the luxury of a haircut. But obviously she still recognizes me. Stopping at the refrigerator I grab a beer and pop open a fizzy drink, somehow making some kind of cheap shandy.

Satisfied with my little mixed drink, I leave the kitchen, and collapse onto the sofa. The leather is cold. Leaning back and throwing my feet up, I click the telly on. There's a rugger game on. Good. I could use something to distract me.

A team in blue darts across the pitch, and is only intercepted by the team in green, and they continue on. The green almost makes it completely over to their side, but the blue team quickly takes it and rushes it over to their side. Then that repeats. I seriously doubt these people even know how to play.

I can't remember the game for the life of me. I lift my glass to my lips, and only wind up choking.

Lucy just reentered the room. Her hair's sopping wet, and…is that my shirt?

Well, of course she's wearing my shirt. It's not as though she has anything else to wear.

"Um," She shifts her weight awkwardly. "Sorry. I think I took this from you when I moved out of the flat."

Oh, fantastic. She can still read me like a book. I feel my ears get hot, but I shrug it off.

"It's fine," I say, and flick the game off. "So, Lu…how have you been doing? Other than the whole parents getting busted thing?"

She frowns, and swipes through her sopping fringe. "I'm working at that new French restaurant in Soho. Waitressing. Then I'm at the university part time. But, what about you?"

All right, Edmund, this is it. Let her know how well you're doing without her. "Yeah, as I said, I'm a cinematographer for the morning news. I still talk with Corin quite a bit…yeah, that's it."

Lowering her brows, Lucy said, "And what's her name?"

I blink. "What?"

"There's an extra toothbrush in the bathroom." She states.

I try to read her expression. Furiously even. There's a part of me that wants her to be hurt because of this. The other part of me tells me not to care. Then again, I never actually want her to be in pain. Especially not because of me. So, I cringe. "Oh, that. That was nothing."

Darting up a brow again, Lucy sits down on the recliner and nods me on.

Swiping my hand through my hair, I lean back. "Really. Nothing. At the last party at the news office, the anchor Lasaraleen Tehishbaan got a little…" I pause. Tipsy would be putting it lightly. Completely pissed is more like it. "Well, she had a bit too much to drink."

Lucy looks a bit like she wants to vomit. Not that I blame her. "And…and then you two…"

I shake my head. "No. She just fainted on the sofa and vomited in my bins."

To my surprise, Lucy begins to laugh. Almost hysterically. "Sorry…but, then you kept the toothbrush?"

"Yeah. Hey, remember all the fights we got into about my horrible housekeeping skills?"

Lucy lowers her brow. "No, actually. I don't."

To be perfectly honest, neither do I. We didn't really fight. Not till the end, anyway.

I can hear the radiator humming softly. It's going to take a lot of effort not to just stare at her. I mean, after all, I had been in love with her for the majority of my life. This is ridiculously awkward; there was a time that you couldn't shut us up. I remember having conversations while trying to snog. Now we're just sitting in awkward silence.

How long have we just sat here in silence? Man. This is killing me. I have to think of something to say. Anything at all.

"So, Ed." Lucy speaks. Thank God: I was really drawing a blank there. "I realise that this is a bit of a personal question. But I feel like I need to know, since I'm staying the night and all. Should I be expecting a girlfriend to show up any time?"

I snort. Oh, that's funny. "Eh, no. I haven't had a girlfriend since…well, you."

"Oh, wow." Lucy said, with her signature surprised look. Then she pauses. "If it's any consolation, I haven't had a real relationship either since us."

"Please tell me what's the difference between a real relationship and a non-real relationship." Hey, I'm curious. So sue me.

Lucy looks at her hands again. "Well. For one thing, he was an ass. But mostly…it's a feeling. That last one…I knew I wouldn't be spending the rest of my life with him… but then, with you. I was so convinced that you and me…well, that we'd be together forever. But, I've told you that, didn't I?"

In spite of myself, I smile. "Yeah. You were lucky I was so in love with you. I don't think any other seventeen-year-old would've stuck around after the whole 'I-want-to-marry-you' speech. Especially after Italy."

She blushes. And I find myself smiling at it. Maybe too broadly. For some reason, she falters.

"Look Ed." She begins, suddenly nervous. "I dunno if this is the best idea."

I lower my brow. "What d'you mean?"

She blinks, shaking her head. "Never-mind. We can handle this, right?"

I think I get it. "Yeah," I mutter. "I mean, we're adults."

She nods, twitching.

Rather abruptly, I stand up. Why the hell did I just do that? Quick, Martin, think on your feet. "Uh…I'll get you blankets. If you want to watch something the DVDs are in the cabinet under the telly."

I can hear my footsteps hit the carpet in surprising decibels. Picking up a quilt from the roll-away I forgot to put back when Corin crashed here last. It smells vaguely of vodka. Don't think Lucy will mind. She wasn't exactly the biggest drinker in the world, but she wasn't exactly completely anti-booze either.

Upon returning to the living room, my heart almost stops.

"What are you doing with that?"

Lucy's head jolts upwards.

"I'm sorry," She says defensively. "It…it was with the DVDs…it has my name on it…I…I was just curious."

I look down at the tattered photo album on her knees. I put that together so long ago that I almost forgot I even made it. I sigh softly and before I realise I'm speaking, I say, "It was gonna be your birthday gift before we broke up."

She gets a funny look on her face, chewing on her lip absently in a way that's terribly distracting. "Can I take a look at it, then?"

I pause. The last page of that album is the very last thing I want her to see. Still, I figure she'll lose interest before we get that far. Honestly, she'll probably be put out that I still have it. I'll claim that it's because some of my best shots are in that album and I might need them for my portfolio sometime soon.

Thus, I shrug and sit beside her on the sofa. "Go ahead."

With a small smile on her lips, Lucy flips open the cover and gives off a rather breathy laugh at the Polaroid covered page. "This is from the day we met, isn't it?"

I look down at the faded colours. My father took that photo shortly after we moved across the street from the Pevensie-Rosenthals, while Susan and I were walking to Primary School, with our rucksacks slung over our shoulders and with my signature pout penetrating through my chubby face, still upset from the divorce.

Lucy looks up at me. "Is this…everything?"

I shrug. Basically, she's right. It's a summary of our whole relationship. I take a brief gulp from my shandy I made earlier, finishing it off. I think I'll need to get more alcohol later.

This might be a long night.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! Remember me? I seriously doubt it…but here I am starting a new story! Because…well, I'm retiring this account very, very soon and I really want to get this one started at least, if not finished. **

**Why am I retiring? Well, because this is mostly for my Narnia stories and while I still love the stories and I still think AU Ed/Lu is the cutest thing since, like, ever it's not the locus of my interests anymore. I still have the gusto to write this one, but probably not the rest of the stories I've started. But, maybe. You never know! **


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